Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You
by Clavis Salomonis
Summary: Wee!Chesters story. Sam has to face his fears, with the help of a reluctant Dean and 'Sgt Salt'. FLUFFY.


A massive thank you to my Beta Reader, Becky, you are a star ^^

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, it belongs to Kripke [who I thank everyday for creating it]

Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You

"Come on," he took hold of his brothers arms, uncrossing them from his chest. At first Sam put up a fight, but soon caved into Dean's persistence. The elder wrapped his large arms around his little brother, who in turn, clung to him, as if he was life itself.

"I don't wanna." Sam said, bluntly, mumbling into the crook of his elder brother's neck.

"Come on Sammy, you gotta…" He spoke, pleadingly.

"NO!" The elder flinched ever so slightly at the shout; Sam's mouth was, after all, right by his ear.

"Sam." He spoke sternly, trying to imitate his father's tone. "You. Have. To."

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!" The little boy screamed, kicking his legs into Dean's stomach and curling his small hands into fists, which pummelled his back. And hurt. A lot.

_Damn kid! _The elder Winchester's patients was wearing thin. _Why did Dad go and leave me with this?! Hell, I'd trade with him for the werewolf!! _

"Sammy!" He shouted over his brother's yells. If beseeching wasn't going to work, he might as well try ordering him. "SAM-MY!" Dean struggled to control the fighting child.

_He's gonna end up on the floor in a minute. Why are three year olds such Hell? _

The small child's cries reached a pitch higher, Dean thought his head was going to explode.

_How can that noise come from a kid that size? _

"Sam- Sammy- Come on- You gotta- Listen to me- Dad said-" Every time he tried to continue, his younger brother's screams would boom louder like a sonic bomb, before levelling off slightly. As if daring him to start again.

In Sam's fit of shrieks, he was crying profusely, _please don't let his nose run all over my shirt._

The small child carried on pummelling him, and wriggling in Dean's grip.

_I really am gonna drop him. _There was a pause as he thought wickedly, _maybe he'll fall on his head and knock himself out. _He winced at the thought, ashamed of himself, and tried to readjust his little brother in his arms. That was when Sam's fist, quite by accident, connected with his elder brother's jaw. Producing a sharp click.

Dean flinched, his head flicking up. A sharp dagger of pain pushed itself into Dean's muscle, causing hot salty water to build in the corners of his eyes. He clenched all his muscles at once.

Sam's crying became weaker, half hearted, as he blinked to look at his elder brother. A small muscle flexed in Dean's cheek, his eyes tightly shut. He pulled Sam away from himself, unhooking his little legs simply by the force of pulling his brother away. There was a moment or two before the younger Winchester realised what was happening, and cried harder, trying to lock his small legs around his brother's torso once more. His tiny fists beat on Dean's arms in vain.

The elder Winchester carefully placed his brother on to the floor, and stood, moving himself a few steps away from his sibling.

Sam huffed in a breath, snivelling lightly, trying to calm down.

Dean rubbed at his jaw with his hands, eyes tight shut. He breathed in and out, carefully, calmly.

_Kid didn't mean too, calm down. Damn it, why did he have to throw a hissy fit! We're only going to the-_

There was the small, soft padded tread of a child's feet. Dean looked down, opening his eyes and dropping his hands.

"Dean?" Sam asked, quietly, one hand clutching at his far too big T-shirt, one behind his back, he bit lightly at his bottom lip, tears from his shrieking fit still sliding down his face.

_Oh, damn it Sammy… _Dean smiled looking at him. _Poor kid, I guess it could be scary… _

"What's up Sammy?" He bent down to his brother's level and looked him solidly in the eyes.

"I'm sorry." His voice was small and murmured, but he held his elder brother's gaze.

"What for?" Dean breathed out the breath of a laugh, and ruffled his sibling's hair. Sam grinned half squirming away, half wanting more affection.

"I hit your jaw." The elder Winchester opened his mouth to reply, but Sam cut sweetly ahead of him.

"I'm sorry Dean, I'm sorry I hurt you." There was a small pause.

_Sweet kid. _

"Here." He pulled his hand from behind his back and presented Dean with a rather shabby, what must have at one time have been baby yellow, rabbit soft toy.

The elder smiled, and took him carefully from his brother.

"Thank you Sammy." He nodded and looked at the toy; _it needs a wash. _He thought, then inwardly winced because he sounded like a mother.

"Sgt. Salt will make it all better." Sam grinned, his words a pretty good imitation of their Father.

_Dad always says that when Sam's upset. _

The elder sibling smiled again, and taking hold of his younger brother's favourite soft toy, manoeuvring his fingers so that the stitched cloth and bean filling seemed to come alive and move like a real rabbit. The faded white and yellow checked bow around the neck, seeming to take on the presentation of a fine dinner jacket, a reflection from the light coming in through the window making Sgt. Salt's eyes light up, become alive.

Dean pressed his forefinger into the base of the neck, and wiggled it, making the whiskers twitch.

Sam squealed with delight.

He made the rabbit hop up Sam's arm and look him in the eye, twitching it's nose before pressing it to the small traces of snail trail tears that had inked on to his brother's face.

The younger Winchester laughed happily, and almost went hysterical in his joy when Dean made the rabbit tickle his neck.

After a moment or two, Dean held Sgt. Salt back in Sam's hands; he seemed to become flater some how. The light did not catch the beads of black and brown that where his eyes in quite the right way.

The bow became a tattered piece of checked ribbon that hung loosely around the toy's neck.

"I think Sgt. Salt wants to go back to you Sam." The younger smiled. "He's cheered me up fine."

That produced a beam from his younger brother as he took the toy back, then paused.

"No, you still need him. Look after him for me Dean."

"Sure thing kiddo." The elder inspected the toy once more as he took it back, Sgt. Salt was interesting blessed with telepathy, but sadly cursed to be a mute. He beamed conversations into the holder's mind.

Apparently.

Sam's theory always made him smile, in a proud sort of way.

He fumbled with it for a minute, before snapping back to himself, and checking the clock hanging on the pale coloured wall.

"Damn it," he muttered; if they didn't leave know, they were going to be late. He put Sgt. Salt down, and looked at his brother, who was still standing in front of him. "Hey Sam, we really have to go know."

The little boy sniffed, Dean thought he was going to start crying again but he nodded.

"Okay. I guess I have to?" He looked up at his elder brother hopefully.

Dean nodded, and Sam looked glumly down. He shuffled his feet, swaying slightly from side to side, shifting his weight from one foot to another, before glancing up to his brother.

"I guess I have to." He repeated the words, but with much less optimism, a small, half shrug lifting his shoulder s of a second. "I really, _really,_ don't wanna go to the dentist, Dean." The little boy rubbed his cheek roughly with his knuckles.

"Yeah, I know Sammy," Dean sighed, standing. He stretched, his back giving off a small, yet satisfying click as he rose. "Come on then," he began to walk towards to door, patting his jeans pocket to make sure he had the door keys. "Let's get moving soldier, I'll buy you a chocolate bar on the way back."

The elder Winchester gently pushed the younger towards the exit.

_Sure Dean, great plan, bribe him with chocolate to get him from the dentist. _He mentally muttered.

"Dean! Waaaiiitttt!!" Sam exclaimed.

"What?"

The younger sibling rushed over to where his brother had just been crouching, before half skipping back. Dean watched him with cautious eyes.

"Here." Sam grinned and handed Sgt. Salt back to his brother. "You almost forgot him silly."

Dean looked down at the rabbit, the light just catching its left eye for a second, like a flutter, and Dean's mind fooled him into thinking that it winked. He let out the breath of a laugh at himself.

In its wake a smaller, sweeter smile laid itself across his mouth.

_Sam Winchester…_ He thought, the beam etching deeper into his muscles.

The scent of chocolate milkshake and strawberries and something deeper, darker, almost freshly cut oak, but somehow richer, underlying the smell. The fragrance rose up from Sgt. Salt and was the undeniable aroma of his little brother. He let it fill his lungs for a moment, thinking-

"Come on Deeeannn," Sam was half swinging on the doorknob. "I want to get a chocolate bar soon."

He grinned cheekily at his brother as he spoke.

Dean shook his head.

"Come on then, kiddo."

**Later. **

Dean sat, sideways in the dark brown armchair, flicking through a magazine Dad had brought him a few days ago.

There was the sound of a key in the lock; the eldest Winchester's muscles tensed, his eyes flicking towards the direction of the door. A pale coloured wall blocking his view, but his eyes looking at it with such intensity that to an onlooker it would seem that he could see through it.

His right leg moved down, shifting off the armrest and gently grazing the floor, careful to make no noise.

He knew where the gun was. He could get there is less than fifteen seconds.

"Hey there, boys!" Dean's father called, the elder Winchester smiled, a tiny tug of the lips. He placed his leg back on the rest; his fingers untightened from the pages of his magazine, calmly turning the page.

He could here Sam's padding footsteps, and the greeting as he met his father. The smile widened on his face as he heard his brother's loud voice proclaiming, that he, Sam Winchester, have braved the dentist and been so courageous that he had been given a large blue sticker that stated so.

Dean smirked, and raised the magazine higher.

The conversation carried on for about five minutes or so, before the elder Winchester hear his father's familiar tread. Dean looked up, putting his magazine down, to his father, who smiled down at him.

"Hey Dean."

"Hi Dad." He father was caked in dirt, the dark brown soil hanging to his clothes and hair in clumps, smeared over the bare skin of his face and hands. A small line of red ran across his right eyebrow, the dark colour of it showed the wound to be healing, and dried, like the mud on his clothes.

He looked worn out, but happy, and he was smiling gently, as well as having talked to Sam, so all must be well.

"How was he?" His father asked, keeping his voice low, even though the roar of the television was floating in from the other room.

"Okay," Dean shifted in his seat, moving more upright. He took in his father's dark denim jeans, his black T-shirt and the brown, battered leather jacket that hung over it, the leather worn in and moving silently with his father's motions. The scent of it brushed against Dean's nose. The smell of home.

Safety.

"He cried before we left, when we got there and in the chair itself. He was screaming so bad that I had to sit in it with him. Apparently it's more fun sitting on my lap." He spoke it all with gentle good humour.

"So, better than last time?" John Winchester asked, lifting one eyebrow.

"Oh definitely."

"He didn't kick the dentist this time?" He tried to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Nope, no bloody noses today. Though there was a time where I thought he was gonna lunge at him."

Dean grinned broadly. "So, how was work?" He swallowed, and glanced quickly towards the living room and the sounds of Sam laughing at something on TV. _Poor kid still didn't know._

_Lucky him._ Dean thought. He quickly pushed it out of his head.

"Good. It's all dealt with, we'll get moving tomorrow." The elder sibling nodded. "I'll just get cleaned up, and then I'll get dinner started." Which roughly meant they were going to get a takeaway. Dean smiled as his father made his way to the bathroom.

"Sam!" The elder brother called. "Dad's gonna get pizza!"

"Yah! Pizza!" Came the reply, but he stayed in the other room. The elder brother shook his head, and was about to turn back to his magazine when his father spoke once more, Dean turned his head, angling himself towards his father, who was standing in the doorway.

"I'll take him next time Dean." He spoke in the clam, burden lifting way fathers do.

"Oh, no Dad. It's 'kay, I'll take him next time." He smiled, as his father did. The elder man shook his head slightly.

"It's your funeral." He said, full of affection, as he turned, headed once more for the bathroom, and hot water.

Dean watched him go, storing away his father's walk, his almost off hand swagger, into his memory, before turning back and opening his magazine.

He paused for a moment, not really reading the words or seeing the pictures. Dean paused, licking his lower lip, and glanced slightly over his shoulders, before opening the very back pages of the magazine.

The sound of canned laughter, and his younger brother's own wafted in from the living room, the vibration of running water, the drumbeat of the shower thrummed in from the bathroom. Which would soon, most probably, be coupled with the booming, full voice of his father's singing any time soon.

Dean pulled out a white sheet of paper from between the last, colourful pages of his magazine. He held it out, admiring every line, every stroke of colour. He smiled.

The picture, was detailed, hand drawn by his brother, with arrows and words, most misspelt, of description pointing to almost everything.

Sam had explained the image to him, in detail, when he had presented Dean with it earlier, holding Sgt. Salt by the paw as he did so.

On the right, the evil Dr. Dentist (who looked like a massive tooth) was cowering, having been defeated. On the left stood a grinning Sam, holding a life sized Sgt. Salt. In the middle, stood Dean, Tooth Brush Shot Gun in hand, the defender of his brother from the Dentist's evil master plans.

Dean smiled; he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

On the back, his brother had written, in his best handwriting.

'To Dean Lav Sammy' (_That kid can't spell for squat. _He thought, affectionately.)

The sound of 'Susie Q' drifted in from the bathroom. His father's voice managing to cut above the canned laughter.

Dean's grin deepened. _Yeah, definitely doing a lot of that lately. _

**End.**


End file.
